


Beautiful

by MSeren



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22651585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSeren/pseuds/MSeren
Summary: Following a rather passionate session of love-making, Miranda ponders quietly into the night as Andrea rests beside her in bed.(This was originally posted on my LiveJournal several years ago, but I decided to polish it up and upload it here.)
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 24
Kudos: 158





	Beautiful

You're beautiful.

That's the first thought that comes to mind as I watch over you while you sleep, sated at last. The soreness I feel between my legs even now is also proof of that, and I smile, chest filling with a warm fondness that I reserve for my children and now you. Of course, I wince not a moment later as I shift on the sheets splayed out all around us, reminding me just how thoroughly I have been taken. 

"Oh, you're such a beast when you want to be..." I murmur into the quiet, opalescent room which has essentially become _our_ room. 

For anyone else, those words would be delivered with disdain and contempt. There has been many a man who has been cowed before my eyes, chilled by the unforgiving winter they see within them. I smile then.

But for you, and you alone, I murmur these words to you with affection and--dare I say it?--love, for there is no other who completes me as you do, and there is no other who you are whole without other than I. I pause, my eyes narrowing down at you in a glare.

At least I had _better_ be...

My hand comes to rest on my neck as I prop myself up, gently palming the indentation of teeth there where you have marked me as yours, and I can feel my expression softening, knowing the truth in that thought.

I am yours, aren't I? Yours and no other's? In turn, are you not mine as well? Mine and mine alone?

I am momentarily pulled from my thoughts as you stir beside me. You shift quietly onto your stomach, turning towards me before shifting to lay your head gently upon your arms, once more content to stay within the realms of sleep while I lie awake to watch over you. The sight tempts quiet laughter from me, but I bite my lip so as to not wake you. Between our love-making and your job, it’s little wonder you’re exhausted, especially now that your employer at _The New Yorker_ has finally seen your worth and talent. 

My hand reaches out to thread itself through the disheveled strands of your hair. I do so adore it. I don't think I've ever told you that, and you don't expect it of me, knowing how I am. Still, I've become quite fond of running my hands through it. It's so soft—exquisitely so--that I simply can't resist. I suspect you like it as well since I have you purring beneath such attention before long. Of course, after our earlier activities, your hair is now currently sticking about in every direction.

I shake my head minutely at the sight; it must be such a hassle to deal with hair so long. Nevertheless, it suits you.

You're beautiful.

I've never said those words to you before though you say them without hesitation or pause. I've been told the same sentiment so many times before in the past, but from you, it’s refreshing in its earnestness. Others may believe you insane for even daring to love someone like me, but I know your feelings are nothing less than genuine.

I lie down, resting my chin on a forearm, never once stopping in my caresses as I stare into your peaceful features. As much as I _abhore_ being cliché, you look absolutely innocent. It’s so very different from the often cool, calculating, but ever determined facade you use around others, one you'd developed upon discovering what it truly means to work in the very much male-dominated field you've chosen. 

But such walls are never used around me of course. No, this is yet another facet of yourself you willingly show me because--just as I am with you--I am the only one you'll trust to display such vulnerability to so easily. I sigh quietly to myself, content with that thought.

However, of all the features that I love about you most, I find that I'm quite fond of your eyes, currently concealed before me beneath those dark lashes. Not that I don't like your other... assets, of course. Perish the thought.

I feel a familiar hunger building within me as my eyes blaze a trail down your naked form, suddenly wishing that you were awake, but I hold my desires at bay for the time being.

No, the reason as to why I find myself so attached to those eyes of yours is this: I can clearly see the love you have for me shining within them. It burns beacon-bright, unclouded by even the most scathing and brutal remarks of the tabloids. It's a love unfettered and unrestrained, filled with an intensity which I've never felt before but one that I'm blessed to have in my life. 

My heart clenches, welling with emotions I've thought long dead.

"Oh, Andrea..." The words escape me before I can even help myself, my voice catching mid-syllable as I whisper those words so softly, but it appears to be more than enough. You stir, heavily-lidded eyes opening before focusing on me after a bleary moment of disorientation.

"Miranda?" she murmurs, a gentle concern laced within the sleepy undertone.

I bite my lip. Even as weary as you are, you think of me first and foremost. Even after all the time we've been with one another, I cannot help but find myself incredibly lucky to have someone as wonderful and selfless as you by my side. You're so very different from myself but so remarkable as well. Whatever I've done to deserve you, I'm thankful.

And with that, I find I can no longer deprive myself of the feel of you, reaching out to palm your hip to silently urge you onto your back. I glare when you merely laugh, but before I can give reproach, you move at my bidding, looking up at me with a drowsy smile, eyes filling with familiar warmth and quickly-building desire.

"Again?" you ask me simply when I straddle you, your own hands gliding over my thighs to rest on my hips, steadying me.

I give a firm nod. "Again," I reply seriously before lowering myself to you, but I soon halt a hairsbreadth away from your lips. Something nags at me from the corner of my mind, and I find I can't continue without resolving the issue first. "Andrea?"

You blink curiously with those still lidded eyes of yours, most likely pondering what gave me pause to begin with. "Hm?"

"You're beautiful."

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably my only complete work in the fandom. If you've any questions, you're welcome to leave them down below or hit me up on [Tumblr.](https://morganaseren.tumblr.com)
> 
> As always, however, kudos and comments are appreciated! Happy reading!


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